Jealous
by Eyes-of-Pearl
Summary: COMPLETED Suggested BB. He raked his eyes hungrily down her sharplooking bodywork, a slim profile accentuated by cerulean silver top. He travelled downward to her waist, subtle seams and a slightly raised rear.  No, of course, Booth wasn't jealous


**Jealous**

_by: Eyes-of-Pearl_

**Rating**: K+

**Disclaimer**: Bones belongs to its respective owners.

**Author's Note & Synopsis**: First Bones fic. The rating is for the suggested innuendoes ;) It was dressed down day at the FBI. Booth finds himself jealous when Brennan shows up in a pair of skin-tight Levis. _He raked his eyes hungrily down her sharp-looking bodywork, a slim profile accentuated by cerulean silver top. He travelled downward to her waist, subtle seams and a slightly raised rear._

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**Jealous**

There was the odd time that the FBI had their Dressed Down Fridays. For Agent Seeley Booth, he substituted his expensive Armani suits and Italian shoes for a white button-up dressed shirt, black leather jacket and a pair of tan coloured khakis. After all, he was still a Federal Agent, he couldn't just show up for work in ripped jeans and t-shirt, there were limits to being casual.

Right now, he was standing with a bunch of his colleagues, just outside the federal office building near the entrance of the parking garage. Somebody set off the fire alarm on one of the floors, leading to an evacuation until they got the ok from the fire department.

It was actually a welcome diversion. Booth had been stuck all morning doing the paperwork. He was just handed another case file before the fire alarm sounded. He only skimmed the preliminaries for what it was to be their next case - their meaning his and Bones.

At the thought of his partner, Dr. Temperance "Bones" Brennan of the Jeffersonian Institute, his cell phone rang, displaying a familiar caller ID. "Bones, where are ya?"

"Booth. Sorry, I got held up this morning. The Laboratoire des Sciences Judiciaires et de Médecine Légale sent over several packages this morning. These remains appeared to date back to 1700s but Hodgins still have to confirm it. Zach is helping me because the bones still have to be sorted, categorized and analyzed ... the reconstruction process is going to take hours and Ange still ..."

"That's great, Bones!" he interrupted, "Where are you right now?"

"Oh! I'm just going down to the parking garage. Ange mentioned something about dressing down today. I really don't know what that means, Booth."

"Bones, I'm sure whatever you're wearing, it's fine."

"But how would you know? Anyway, I guess it doesn't really matter, because Ange picked it out."

"Bones, you know I have never question your fashion of choice."

"No, I supposed not but logic dictates that there is always a first for everything."

"Have a little faith, Partner."

"You have enough for the both of us, Booth. I'll stick to the science. Listen, I'm hanging up. I'll see you in a few."

When Booth hung up the phone, he was joined by Agent Daniel Lucas (1). Booth didn't know much about Lucas who just transferred from Atlanta as a Special Supervisory Agent for the Criminal Investigations Unit. The two sat in a few general meetings together and got along alright.

"Your partner?" he asked.

Booth confirmed that it was as he slipped his cell phone back into his jacket, "Yeah, running a bit late today."

"Well, it's a good day to be late 'cause it doesn't look like any of us are going to get any work until we get the all cleared."

"What happened anyways?"

He and Lucas chatted, but Booth only half-heartedly followed along with the conversation. Though he kept one vigilant eye for the familiar sight of his partner's car, he never saw what was coming and the view left nearly every man within a mile radius breathless.

She was a beauty. He raked his eyes hungrily down her sharp-looking bodywork, a slim profile accentuated by cerulean silver top. He travelled downward to her waist, subtle seams and a slightly raised rear. Classic straight lines made her limbs looked even longer and leaner; they were complemented by an opulent pair of stiletto spikes.

"Hot."

With the moment of distraction, Booth snapped at Lucas, "What?"

Liked everybody else, Lucas' had his attention diverted to the new arrival, so he was startled at Booth's sharp tone, "I said hot. C'mon Booth, you've got to be blind if you don't know what I mean. That is the paragon of perfection, with a cutting edge piece of body work. I'm talking about a light but rigid frame, long swingarm, and adjustable handlebars. Not to mention, there's a compact inline engine, delivering an unfettered spread of power with low vibrations. It's perfect for long distance, if you know what I mean."

_A compact inline engine? Perfect for long distance?_ Booth was ready to throttle the guy. _Does he know that he's looking at my partner like that? _

"God, I wish I've got myself one of those, a 2007 Yamaha FJR 1300 AE."

Booth nearly swallowed his tongue and realized that Lucas was talking about the bike and not the actual rider of said bike. "You're talking about the motorcycle," he said rather stupidly.

Lucas gave him a rather incredulous look and Booth quickly backtracked and said, "Well Lucas, if you have about $20,000, you can get one yourself."

He didn't wait for the agent's reply, as he made his way over to his partner.

Temperance Brennan didn't understand why the entrance way to the FBI was partially blocked off. She was late and tardiness was a trait that she didn't particularly like in anyone, herself included. Her day had begun early with her car breaking down just when she was getting ready to head for the Jeffersonian. With Angie calling the day before that she was heading to work with Hodgins, it left her with little choice but to ride her motorcycle, the one indulgence that she allowed herself with little regret.

Her irritation rose when she couldn't manoeuver her motorcycle through the mass of people that congregated by the parking garage. Seeing no choice but to kill the engine, she locked the machine in place, and reached up to unbuckle her helmet.

Doing so, she heard the distinct voice of her partner, calling out her name, "Bones!"

She turned in the direction of the sound, as Seeley Booth pushed aside the mass of people to her. Pulling off her helmet, she was oblivious to the attention that she garnered from such a simple action. Her dark auburn curls cascaded down liked crisp autumn leaves. She ran her fingers through her hair in a poor attempt to tame her soft tendrils.

She looked up at her partner and was startled but the intense look that reflected back at her, "What is it? I apologize for being late, but I already said that I was on my way."

Booth shook himself out of his reverie, but found that himself speechless when Brennan swung her leg around to get off the bike. He found himself staring at the second time at his partner's choice of clothing. She was clad in a pair of black skin tight Levis, tapered, slim fit. He caught a flash of silver, probably a zipper at the end of each leg seam that barely concealed her Manolo Blahnik boots.

He wondered briefly how she could possibly complain about walking in heels during their case in Las Vegas when here she was riding a motorcycle in a pair of stiletto boots.

With her back to him, Brennan was pulling out her cell phone that she had stored in a storage compartment under the passenger seat. "So, is this dressed down enough for you?" she asked.

Booth's eyes continued their journey upward. She was wearing a short fitted nappa black leather zip jacket. He recognized it as work by Piero Tucci, and it gave her an urban but chic look, sophisticated, yet desirable. Still, he hadn't answer her question and she was quick to point that out to him.

"Well?" she asked, turning around to face him.

Cobalt blue met cinnamon brown, he felt himself drawn by her subtle neckline and modest cleavage. If he leaned closer, then he could blow hot breaths down the exposed part of her flesh.

A familiar sound of a cell phone jerked them apart. Brennan stared at the contraption in her hand before walking off to the side to answer it. "Oh hi, Zach!"

Booth let out a frustrated sigh but came to the realization that he was in fact still outside the FBI building. Many of his coworkers had already left to go back inside, fire trucks were dispersing. He wondered briefly where the time had gone.

He looked at his partner. Bones still rambling off to her squints, so he took his time to study the motorcycle before him. Booth had ridden one or two in his time and he had to admit that Lucas had the right idea, this particular Yamaha model was really something.

He vaguely ran scenarios over in his head: Bones straddling the sides of this fine, aerodynamic piece of machinery, injecting fuel from the bike's 6.6-gallon tank into its electric-shift five-speed transmission to deliver a horsepower of 145. Booth saw the plates, _"MIRANDA."_

Miranda's sleek cat-eye headlights stared mockingly back at him. Booth could not believe that he was jealous of a girl - a bike in fact. _What do you know about my Bones, Miranda?_

"Sorry, that was Zach. You know he's brilliant, and he really doesn't need to call for verifications. Booth?"

"Why Miranda?"

With an infinitesimal smile, she ignored his question and asked one of her own, "Is that our new case?"

He glanced down at the file that was in his possession and nodded. "Yeah, I haven't had a chance to look at it. Although, Cullen hadn't said that it was urgent."

"As in, we can get started on it tomorrow?"

"Well at least, it can wait until after lunch," he replied with a smile. He glanced over at the motorcycle, and said, "So, you're not going to tell me."

"You have to offer a bit of yourself first, Booth, before I offer a part of me. Isn't that the way partnership work?" She had caught him with his own words.

"My old man used to own a bike, probably one of the best memories with him. There's nothing like adrenaline pumping through your veins when you're spending quality time together. Then again, I don't know how I feel about Parker riding on one."

He looked up to find her astride on the bike, holding out a helmet out to him. "What's this?"

"It's a helmet, Booth, a form of protective equipment against severe trauma to your cranium."

"I didn't know I'm going for a ride, Bones."

"Miranda is special to me and normally, I refuse to carry another person. You're my partner, Booth, and partners share. I'm making a slight exception for you."

Booth grinned thanked the powers that be that today was Dressed Down Day at work. He couldn't imagine riding a motorcycle in one of his suits. He accepted the offered helmet as Bones slipped the file in his hand into the storage compartment. Bones clicked off with the foot-operated gearshift lever, the engine purred to life. "Hang on, Booth," she cautioned.

_Hang on? As in wrapping his arms around her toned waist, with his thumbs just grazing the front of her leather jacket? As in leaning close until he could just barely smell her perfume, while the machine beneath them gyrated with energy and power?_ _Were there any doubts? Of course, he would hang on tight. _

"By the way, Bones, be sure to remind to thank Angela. Love the outfit. It's absolutely perfect for Dressed Down Days."

**The End**

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(1) Daniel Lucas, is from the short-lived series, _Vanished_ which was also shown on Fox. Of course, I own nothing from the show ;)

BTW, the 2007 Yamaha FJR 1300 AE is an actual bike, just google it and you'll see.


End file.
